The Climb…. three more segments

IMG_4361 (3)

On Tuesday we did prosery at d’Verse Poets Pub. We had to write a 144 prose piece using the word Cloud along with a line from a poem. I wrote this short story. Several bloggers mentioned they wanted the story to continue, so I am attempting to carry on… This is the first segment followed by three new segments.

The Climb

Dwight L. Roth

The old hunter slowly made his way up the rocky mountain side. He used his 30-30 more as a cane than a gun. It was a beautiful winter day with a cool brisk wind blowing up the hollow. He wrapped his coat tightly around his shoulders as he stopped to rest.

George enjoyed hunting for the past forty years. As he unwrapped a Hershey bar, he thought about his younger days and the thrill of getting his first deer on opening day. Now the thrill was just being able to make it to the high top. The view there was spectacular.

At the top of the ridge, he found trees bent from the wind. The clouds were different today. George wasn’t sure, “But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter against the blue cloth of the sky” Distant snow clouds worried him.

The Story continues:

EER_0082 (2)

***

He knew how fast the weather could change in early winter. George had hiked through the mountain laurel, almost to the high-top, the rise of rocks and scrub bushes that rose sharply before dropping down the backside of the mountain.

In the West he saw clouds were moving in more rapidly than he anticipated. He knew he must head back or he would be caught in a blizzard. In his younger days George could have easily stepped it off back toward the ravine in short order. But, his body would not cooperate like it once did. So, he slowly made his way through the laurel as best he could.

Reaching the head of the hollow, he looked out across the mountains and realized there was no way to make it down before the snow closed in on him. He had to find shelter and find it quickly!

*****

EER_0017 (3)

It started as sleet and freezing rain, quickly turning into heavy snow. He remembered stories of hunters who got trapped in blizzards and did not make it home alive. George was determined that would not be his fate.

Having hunted the mountain many times, George remembered a large outcropping of rock on the other side of the hollow about half way down. If he could make it that far, a shallow cave at the base would provide shelter from the wind and snow.

Although going down was easier than coming up, one had to still be careful not to slip and fall, or step in between two rocks and sprain an ankle, or God forbid, break a leg. Carefully George made his way through the falling snow. In the distance he could see the large rocks, black against the white blanket of snow.

*****

As George reached the overhanging rocks, he could see his short breaths projecting like tiny steam clouds from a locomotive. He also felt an unusual tingling in his shoulder that radiated down his left arm. It concerned him, but he knew he had to find protection for the night so he pressed on.

He climbed up and peered into the shadows of the opening hoping not to find another animal taking shelter there. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was empty except for a large pile of dead leaves that had blown in over time. The cave provided shelter against the wind and blowing snow.

With snow falling, covering everything, there was no way for George to build a fire or gather wood to keep it going. He knew it was going to be a long cold night. Would anyone miss him?

To be continued:

If you want more let me know…

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

This is where the story originated:

Today at d’Verse, Merril introduced our prosery prompt clouds. In prosery we are given a line from a poem of her choosing and it must be incorporated into the flash fiction story as given. The line she gave us was: “But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter against the blue cloth of the sky” from Clouds – by Constance Urdang

Parked

“The isolated Model T truck bears the weight and pride of a hundred years of rust, becoming prairie art and sentinel.” – Glenn Buttkus

Rusty old truck

“Blind in one eye

can’t see out of the other”

Hasn’t moved in many years

Unlike us, it still has its shape

Sitting in the desert

sandblasted by high winds

Undaunted by freezing cold

Reflecting a time of revolution

Industrial revolution

When steel was king

and horse drawn buggies

were becoming obsolete.

Growing old alone

Just like us…

Today at d’Verse, Sanaa asked us to consider minimalist photography. She share some photos from fellow blogger Glenn Buttkus, and asked us to pick one and write an Ekphrastic poem about it. I chose the old Model T truck sitting in the field.

Join us at: http://dversepoet.com

Together

Foster children get passed around

From house to house across the town

Five children living far apart

With dreams of a family in their heart

Robert Carter a single dad

Remembers the foster life he had

Adopted three siblings to give them a home

Discovered two more were all alone

He searched the system and found they were there

The other two siblings were in foster care

He decided he needed to make things right

And bring them together to their delight

He adopted them all and took them home

From now on these children will never be alone

Their sad separations no longer make them blue

Dreams of family really do come true

Today at d’Verse, Peter asked us to write a documentary poem. He challenged us to write about an event that is local or does not get much attention. I saw this on the local news this morning and thought it would be perfect. Adoption is so important to children whose lives have been disrupted by separation. This story touched my heart and I think it will touch yours as well.

https://www.wral.com/single-man-adopts-five-siblings/19372126/

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Introspection

IMG_6139 (2)

I hear of people who go off by themselves for days at a time to look inward and outward experiencing self-awareness and spiritual renewal! I never understood that at all. For me life is full of interaction and connection that stimulates my mind and soul. Some may think I am shallow as a result, but for me introspection comes through connection.
Climbing down into the darkness of being alone;
Feeling lost and disconnected with others all around.
It’s like making my way through mind mazes with no exit…
Finding more than I bargained for in this cavern of the soul.
No // I must stay connected to thrive feeding off others.
I never found myself a good enough friend to myself
to make me want to become a recluse.
Short stints of contemplation are fine;
An evening of writing poetry stimulates my mind;
But // I would never ever want to be alone
over any lengthy period of time

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Bjorn at d’Verse asked us to think about how we handle solitude. Many folks have had to deal with being disconnected and alone during this time of pandemic! There is a sense of loss that come with that, but it is a time that can be used for creative purposes as well.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

 

 

Feeling Rejected

IMG_5876 (3)
On Good Friday Christians reflect on the death of Christ on the cross, and what his sacrifice means for us. The human side of Jesus suffered unspeakable physical pain. Some say that God will give you strength in your time of need. But it is my experience that when that time comes, it is very difficult to feel that presence. Even Jesus cried out on the cross, wondering why God had forsaken him in his darkest hour. Pain and rejection seem to be Siamese Twins! It is very hard to have your whole world collapse and not feel rejected. This is why it is so important to have persons who will walk with you and help you regain your perspective once more, understanding that God loves you even when you don’t feel it.

Dark night of the soul
Feelings rejection’s pain
Forsaken // alone
Stretched out on life’s cruel cross
Has God turned his face from us?
In His pain he cried
“My God, my God, why have
you forsaken me!?”
Feeling rejection’s pain
In that dark night of the soul

*****

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Her Perspective

IMG_0471 (2)

How big the world must look to one so young
With all its overflowing challenges;
A chasm most daunting // stretched and far flung;
It spreads in all directions and ranges.
From your high safe perch on that giant rock,
You might feel secure // a place to call home;
But, you know in the future you will walk
Across that river of life all alone.
How big the world seems sitting on a rock

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

This evening is open link night at d’Verse. Join us at:

https://dversepoets.com

All Alone

EER_0182.JPG

Many years ago I went through a very difficult time in my life. Everything was turned upside down and I did not know which way to turn. Nothing helped. It was during this time that I felt like Job…lost and alone. So, like Job I questioned God. asking why I did not find help in my time of need. I, unlike Job, did not get a scathing reply, but in time things did level out and life was as good as it ever was before.

WHERE WERE YOU GOD?
WHERE WERE YOU GOD // WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST
WHEN MY LIFE COLLAPSED AND MY LIFE TURNED BLACK?

GOD // WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I EXPECTED THAT YOU CARED
WHEN I BELIEVED // I TRUSTED // AND THOUGHT YOU HEARD?

WHERE WAS THE PROMISED PEACE OF MIND…
THAT THROUGH DIFFICULT TIMES I DID NOT FIND?

WHEN I WALKED THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH
I FEARED EVERY EVIL // I FELT ALL THE PAIN

WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I CRIED OUT IN PAIN
WHEN I PLEADED // I BEGGED // AND CALLED YOUR NAME?

WHEN I HURT SO BAD I WISHED I COULD DIE,
WERE YOU THERE TO SEE // DID YOU HEAR MY CRY?

I COULD NOT TELL // I FELT LEFT TO FATE…
WITH NO WAY TO HELP // BEFORE IT WAS TOO LATE

WOULD ALL THAT HAPPENED, HAVE HAPPENED ANYWAY
OR WERE YOU THERE // WHAT DO YOU SAY?

WHERE WERE YOU GOD, WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST?

~1995~

**************************************************

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Frank, at d’Verse asked us to write a poem about frustration, disappointment or heartbreak.   Come join in with all the fun.

https://dversepoets.com

Alone

Back Alley in Philadelphia 001

One of the hardest questions to answer is why doesn’t God answer my prayer. In the middle of tragedy and loss we wonder why God allows this to happen. When it comes to broken relationships it is easy to feel isolated and alone, thinking no one understands. No one cares about my situation, not even God! But, we are not puppets. We are creatures of freewill and as a result God does not intervene in our choices. Pain and tragedy come and we all seem to go through our struggles. God is there. He still listens and hears our cries. But he does not take us out of troubles he helps us through. If we understand this we can move forward through the darkness to the light of his love.

 I Cry Alone

I cry alone I cry alone for no seems to care

So I cry alone

The depth of hurt I know the knife of pain

Cut deep into my soul when no answers came

I cry alone, I cry alone, for no one seems to care

So I cry alone

I cry but you’re not there I’m all alone

Helpless and empty the pain is always there

So I cry alone

I cry alone, I cry alone, for no one seems to care

So I cry alone

Lord are you really there you seem so far away

My life sits on the edge no one’s here for me

So I cry alone

I cry alone, I cry alone for no one seems to care

So I cry alone

For no one feels the pain    …of what I bear

 

******************************************

Back Alley in Philadelphia 001

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Some Stand Alone

IMG_3370

Some Stand Alone

Few it may be who can survive alone

Facing summer’s heat and winter’s cold

Grounded in their own strength

Very few stand alone undaunted

Rising high above the landscape

A tower of strength bowing to no one

No need for intertwined arms

Holding up others by their interlocking

Some find strength within themselves

Deeply rooted where waters rise

Feeding the inner being with life and energy

Like a monk in the mountain monastery

Providing shade that no one ever stands in

Viewed from afar with Goliath’s awe

Passed every day by thousands too busy

To find solitude under its spreading branches

Wondering as they go  flying by what it is

That makes something so beautiful

Stand alone

***************************

Photo: Dwight Roth